


Iron and Silver

by synchodai



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/M, Friendship/Love, I'm trying, Political Drama, Romance, SPECIAL SNOWFLAKE, Slow Burn, Spoilers, War Drama, because no one else will write about Adaryc if I don't, miniature giant space pig, white march
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-11 05:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11707320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synchodai/pseuds/synchodai
Summary: Commander Adaryc Cendamyr of Readceras did not expect to find another Watcher when he lead his army to the White March. Nor did he expect they would help each other understand their own souls. Updates on Fridays.





	1. My Favorite Thing About Adaryc is the Fact that He's So, So, So Tired

**Author's Note:**

> Bold text is lifted directly from game dialogue with some tense, pronoun, and other minor edits.

Adaryc hunched over the map of the White March, his hands gripping the wooden table, partly in frustration and partly to keep himself steady. His gaze wondered to the tiny marking nestled in the foot of the mountains. Before they turned on him, Stalwart’s delegates had informed him that they had no malevolent ambitions for Durgan’s steel and were more than willing to trade with the Readceran army. Adaryc chuckled grimly at the thought. How could there be any possibility of a trade? The mythical Durgan’s Battery in exchange for…what, exactly? There was nothing he could give them in return for something like that. These Stalwart people believed they were good as dead without the forge. Still, White Forge or no, their little speck on the map would be gone before long. It would be nothing but scorched earth paving the way for the Dyrwoodan army’s inevitable warpath. Their own ducs abandoned them to this frozen wasteland long ago, so it was almost a certainty that their bloodthirsty army would not think twice of burning Stalwart down as an offering to their savage fire goddess if need be. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time they sacrificed one of their own in their frenzy.

The flames of the torches illuminating his tent danced around Adaryc’s peripheral vision. Exhaustion loomed over him, threatening to envelope him like the biting cold in these godsforsaken mountains. A good night’s sleep had always been rare for a man with his unique…affliction. These past few days, however, whatever rest he could manage was interrupted by the wailing of that Dyrwoodan woman. He wondered why he simply didn’t kill her. It wouldn’t surprise him if she welcomed a blade to her neck. When she first started spouting out her blasphemous omens, her expression was fearful, like she saw horrors greater than anything he anticipated. His men were certain she was a spy sent by the Dyrwood—a suspicion that Adaryc shared. Interrogating her through conventional means proved to be a fruitless exertion however, yielding only riddles upon more riddles and sobbing that he could hardly stand. But there could be no doubt she knew more than a local fisherwoman should.

Adaryc looked up from the war table and watched his soldiers’ silhouettes moving outside the commander’s tent. He had the patrols memorized, so he could tell which person was at their post. Dershor was warming his hands at a fire, Gaendyl was tending to the dogs, and Jaered was polishing his pike while keeping watch. Every man out there was waiting on his orders, wondering why their commander hesitated while they were more than ready to storm the Battery. What would they feel if they knew that all it took were the words of a raving woman to stop him in his tracks? To make him doubt his purpose? And he knew better than anyone that the longer he waited, the closer the Dyrwoodan army marched towards Readceras. Towards his soldiers’ families. Towards their homeland.

Strange, though…there was another shadow among the others, seemingly whisking past one man’s outline to the next. An animal? A patrol had recently come across one of those lagufaeth nests. Nasty things, but nothing his soldiers couldn’t handle. A shade, perhaps? These mountains where littered with corpses, each one more mangled than the last. The Iron Flail votarists had done great work sanctifying and protecting the fort from those roaming spirits, though.

“Garion,” he called, his voice weary.

“Commander?” replied his Lieutenant Archer attentively. They would never admit it, but many of his older peers begrudged Adaryc for his youth, but not Garion. Garion was by his side during the Saint’s War, so he knew firsthand Adaryc’s commitment to Readceras and Eothas, in that order.

“Double the patrols outside the fort. Make sure no man is outside the walls by themselves. And ask Deryan if there have been any suspicious…persons lurking about.” Adaryc was used to seeing spirits and hearing whispers from ghosts, and he admits his lack of sleep further clouded his senses, but it was best to be cautious.

“Very well, Commander,” said Garion as he left the tent.

Lieutenant Alrac cocked an eyebrow under his helm. “An intruder?”

“Perhaps,” said Adaryc. “But there’s little to fear about something that hides cowardly in the shadows.” Yes, that which hides in darkness is nothing once it is exposed to the light. This uncertainty must be lifted.

Adaryc pushed himself from the war table with determination rigidly etched on the furrows of his brow. He strode impatiently to the center of the tent, just above the pit where the Stalwart delegates were imprisoned. He could hear the men’s haggard breathing echoing against the walls. The woman was unusually silent. Better for him; he needed to concentrate.

Her essence was weak but distinct against the souls of the other villagers. Slowly, he reached out, but he could feel her resistance. Any ordinary person would not feel their souls being watched, but this one struggled, putting a barrier of emotion to shield her essence. Adaryc was hit by wave after wave of overwhelming grief, threatening to drown him the deeper he went. Images of loss and regret flashed in his mind; none of them, however, belonged to the woman below the grate. Finally, he reached sensations that were her own: cold and fear repeating and intertwining, the smell of ocean salt and sting of frost winds against her face, but most shockingly of all, bodies floating face down in a flooded hall and this woman’s feeling of blissful relief as she watches her own drown.

“You are monsters,” he spat as he tore himself away from the woman. “Alrac, execute them.”

 **“What?”** cried one of the Stalwart men, clambering to his feet. **“No, wait! Please, listen!”**

 **“Enough!”**  said Adaryc. **“I’ve had my fill of…”**

Suddenly, a small creature tottered inside the tent. He would call it a pig if it were not completely transparent and bearing strange glowing markings. It raised its head curiously, unaware of what it had just walked in to.

 **“What’s this?”** he said, not at all amused.

One of his lieutenants stepped forward, blade drawn and ready to slay the creature. He was about to bring down his sword when someone sprinted into the tent, almost too fast for the soldiers’ eyes to follow. But their outline was clearly that of kith, not spirit or beast. The blade's edge missed the animal's head and landed on the floor with a resounding thud. The pig's rescuer rolled deftly across the tent wrapping themselves around the…er, pig. The animal didn't put up a struggle in their arms. If anything, it burrowed itself into the kith as they knelt inches from the grate.

 **“What?!”** said Adaryc.  The intruder was wrapped in black beaten leathers with an equally dark hood of cloth covering their face. **“Who are you?”**

They looked up at Adaryc, the hood falling from her head as she did. It was one of the Glamfellen, not unlike the pale elves his men chanced upon in the Russetwood. There were only so few reasons her kind would venture this far into their fort…

**Adaryc glared down at the grate, his face a mask of rage. “More of your scheming friends? Not a scrap of honor in the lot of you.”**

The elf's gaze darted from Adaryc to the pit to the many armed men that surrounded him. **“You must be the commander,”** she stated casually. From her tone, it was almost as if she sounded lost.

Adaryc couldn’t tell if she was overly bold or stupid. Either way, he wouldn’t take his chances. **“Yes. And you’re the one who’s been skulking in my camp,”** he said as he attempted to peer into this interloper’s soul. Unlike the prisoner, the elf’s essence yielded easily. There was a campsite strewn in chaos by the winds of a biawac, towering stone halls filled with a hodgepodge of kith and the warmth of a well-kept hearth, and below that was a maze of ruins and a titan made of adra. More pertinently, there were images of her opening Durgan’s Battery, the spirits of the Pargrunen dwarves, and Stalwart hailing her as the hero of the White Forge. Further still was an unending canvas of white, billowing plumes of snow, and dark eyes glinting in the shadows of The White that Wends. Other memories also resided within this soul—another person with a different face, speaking a language long dead.

As Adaryc examined her memories, he felt another presence reaching and pulling at his essence. It sees what he remembers: the fields of vorlas that he tilled, him overlooking his first battalion, and a small farming village filled with a renewed hope…not too different from the one that was hours from their camp. Only then did he realize the elf staring, not at him, but within him. She tilted her head, her eyes wide and questioning. He severed their connection with a jolt.

She did not appear as startled as he was. In fact, she seemed…hopeful? She stood up, gently releasing the pig and patting the dust off her leathers. **“Huh. That’s never happened before,”** she said.

The soldiers in the tent stepped towards her, their weapons drawn. They couldn’t have possibly known what transpired between them, but they saw enough to know she did something to their commander.

Adaryc lifted a gloved hand to order them to stand down. **“You’re—” He cleared his throat. “You’re the Watcher at Caed Nua? They said he was a senile hermit.”**

She gave him a quick nod. __**“That’s me.”**

**Adaryc’s lips curled in irritation.**

“I’m the one called Snowflake,” she clarified as if there was a horde of Watchers at Caed Nua.

**Adaryc shook his head. “Why have you come? Why now?”**

**“About our…”** she said, **“mutual condition…”**

**“You’ve come all this way to indulge your curiosity?”**

She glanced up at him with those ice-blue eyes and a weary smirk. **“Are you as tired of listening to dead people as I am?”**

 _ _Yes__ , Adaryc thought. And for a moment, he felt a small comfort in knowing someone else shared this burden. Nonetheless, he gripped his weapons tight and did not answer her. He would loathe to admit that sort of vulnerability to a stranger.

 **“You’re ashamed,”** she observed. **“Why?”**

 **“It’s hardly something to be proud of!”** For the first time, she seemed taken aback.  __ **“Look to your own sins, Watcher.”** He said the last word like it left a bitter taste on his tongue. **“I’ll not share mine.”**

She paused before giving him an apologetic smile. **“I take it Watchers don’t enjoy the best reputation in Readceras.”**

**“Does everyone in the Dyrwood boast of their afflictions?” In the brief quiet that followed, Adaryc looked very tired. But he did not lower his sword.**

She shook her head and laughed softly. **“I thought all the other Watchers were mad.”**

**“That wouldn’t bode well for you, would it?” Adaryc’s tone was irritable, but he watched her with a wary interest. “I’ve a firm grip on my senses, whatever you believe. The Watcher’s curse is many things, but if it promised madness I would not have taken command of The Iron Flail.” He then remembered what he saw in her soul—how she could have come to the conclusion her only path was to madness. “The memories I saw,” he said, hesitating. “Some of them couldn’t have belonged to you. You’re Awakened, aren’t you?”**

**“Are you also Awakened?”**

**“No. Of course not.” He studied her with a grim fascination.**

There was a flash of disappointment on her face that he doubt the other soldiers noticed. He could see her agonizing over her next question. **“Do you know of a cure?”** she asked finally.

The battlefield rarely wasn’t a place to indulge in pity. How often did he had to give a soldier’s family news that they could not bare to hear? Adaryc curiously examined this woman in front of him, her form so foreign him. Yet no one else had ever felt so like himself, especially when he had asked the very same question ages ago. **Eventually he gave her a slight shake of the head. “It seems a terrible thing, to be Awakened and a Watcher both.”**  He looked directly at her eyes, clear and honest yet exhausted like his. **“I’m sorry.”**

“It was worth a shot.” She chuckled and shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, **enough about that.** ”

 **“Yes. We were in the middle of something, I believe,”** he said, not wanting to dwell on this subject as much as she did.

She jabbed her thumb to the grate before her. **“What did these people do to make you throw them in a pit?”**

 **“Stalwart sent these delegates to discuss terms of peace. I offered them an opportunity. I was generous.”** Whatever fondness he felt for his fellow Watcher was quickly replaced by rage as he recalled the meeting. __**“But Stalwart sent soothsayers, not diplomats! To frighten us with stories of the moon growing dark, the earth shaking.”**

**A shrill voice suddenly rose up from the pit “It’s true! It’s all true! The waves will swallows us all!” Adaryc stomps angrily at the bars, drowning her out.**

**“But there have been tremors,”** Snowflake pondered, cupping her chin.  **“There were cave-ins at the mines.”**

 **“Don’t! Don’t play the fool with me. These…omens are meant to frighten me, to make me doubt my purpose here. But there is more at stake than a village in the mountains.”** He knew why he was here; he had seen what other kith do not. Eothas will cast a light on the wicked doubts these Dyrwoodans had planted within him. **“They dismiss my faith, call us superstitious. But what does Stalwart believe in? Iron and gold, and nothing else!” He looked down at the grate of the cell, eyes flashing with sudden anger. “I have tilled fields with my barren hands. What is gold to me?”**

 **“What do you want with Stalwart, anyway?”** she asked.

 **“With a village of fisherman? Nothing,”** Adaryc answered, his shoulders visibly becoming less tense. **“But they cling fiercely to the forge you gave them.”**

“And you want the forge because…”

**“Some of the men are here for gold and good steel, and I promised them their share. But I came here for cannons. With the Battery’s cannons we can hold the pass.” His voice rose. “Readceras has suffered enough. Its sons and daughters have nothing. We cannot sit and wait for an attack from the Dyrwood. There is an army coming. I’ve seen it, pouring down from the mountain. It will crush Stalwart, and come for Readceras.” Adaryc’s gaze is distant. “The Iron Flail will be the wall that safeguards my homeland from the worst these fire-worshippers can bring to bear.”**

Snowflake smiled mirthlessly while tugging at her gloves. **“Between the duc’s assassination and the Hollowborn crisis, Dyrwood’s a little preoccupied.”**

**“So I believed.…Hoped, maybe. But that only means they’re angry. They’ll look for someone to blame. An enemy to fight.”**

**“What makes you think the Dyrwood is going to attack?”**

**“I’ve seen it,”** Adaryc said, closing his eyes as he relived the nightmare. **“Like a memory plucked from the dead. But this, this was a warning from the gods. I can’t sit back and do nothing!”**

 **“Wait,”** said Snowflake suddenly, as if she was hearing something for the first time. **“You had a vision of an army?”**

 **"I warn you, Snowflake"** he sneered. **"If you think to taunt me—”**

 **“I had a vision too,”** she said, not hearing him. **“In mine, I saw Caed Nua reduced to rubble by an army that shook the earth.”**

 **Doubt creased Adaryc’s brow. His men exchanged looks, waiting tensely for orders. “Why would they turn on their own?”** he muttered to himself before shaking his head. **“…No. You’re trying to trick me. This is all another distraction!”**

 **“I remember thunder, and a hundred eyes gazing back at me,”** she continued, completely ignoring his accusations. **“Any of that sound familiar?”**

 **“…The thunder followed me to the temple of Dawnsreach, and the earth split beneath our feet.” Adaryc swallowed and looked unsure.** “I…Why should I trust you?”

She seemed somewhat confused by that question herself. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, thinking. It didn't look like she was getting any closer to an answer. The soldiers watched her warily, waiting for her to pounce on their commander. Instead, she sheathed her daggers to her side.

 **“You read my soul,”** she said, her arms open in front of her and doing a mock bow. She looks up at him through her wispy lashes. **“What did that tell you?”**

 **“That you’re soft-hearted.” Adaryc’s voice was brittle. “But is hasn’t seemed to stop you.”** He paused, taking a moment to riffle through the memories he saw within her: an explosion on top of an ancient tower, silencing the bickering masses of Dyrwoodans in their Ducal Palace with a shocking discovery, and the dying visage of a great archmage. **“And that you’ve seen and done a great many things. Things I…would not otherwise have believed.”**

She stared at him, straight in the eye as he did with her. **“Then believe me now.”**

**For several moments, there was nothing but silence in the cabin. Then, there’s a scrape of metal as Adaryc took up his sword, only to lay it flat across his palms.**

**“I led my people here because I believed we were on the right path,”** he said.  **“I bound my soul to this blade as proof of my surety.” There was a ripple of soul energy in the air, there and gone. Adaryc looked pained. “The sword’s no good to me now. It yours. For as long as you can wield it.”**

He offered Steadfast to her, waiting. She crossed the grate towards him, her strange astral pig trailing behind her. She walked lightly, her footsteps hardly rattling the bars. It was no wonder then that she managed to infiltrate their camp. For the first time, however, she was close enough for him to see that she wasn't merely some ghostly shadow. She was a small thing; the top of her head barely reached his elbows. More so, her long hair made her look much shorter that she was, covering her like a white veil. She looked up at him, and though he had already seen the shocking pale blue eyes that were common to many Glamfellen, he did not notice the heavy dark circles around hers that made them even more distinct on her bloodless face. Her whole body seemed to be mishmash of light and dark, soot on pale elven skin, and stark white scars against healing purple bruises. Adaryc had seen Cean Gwla that looked less battered.

“I appreciate the gesture,” she said, gingerly taking the sword from him. “I can’t say I’m someone who can fully appreciate this beauty, but I might know a guy.”

 **“I’ll call in our forces from the mountains,”** he said, not only telling her but announcing it to his lieutenants. **“Please, give me time to explain. You should speak with Stalwart messengers. Perhaps you’ll get some answers out of them.”** He had no love for these prisoners, but he begrudgingly handed her the prison key nonetheless. If Snowflake was right about the army not being from Dyrwood, then their presence just might have helped prevent another war. And perhaps with her hauling them back to their village, Adaryc can finally get, if not rest, then a sliver of peace. He would need it for whatever force was out there threatening to invade both their homelands.

Snowflake's fingers brushed against his hand as she reached for the key. To Adaryc's surprise, they were warm.


	2. I Think Eyeless Are Vulnerable to Slashing Damage Because Swords are So Nerfed in the Rest of the Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold text is lifted directly from game dialogue with pronoun, tense, and other minor edits.

Adaryc stood atop the watchtower platform, his voice sure and hard but also weary as he told the Iron Flail of the new developments. He gazed below to all the men who followed him to these cursed mountains. True, many of them were lured by the promise of gold and Durgan steel, but many more shared his purpose—to defend Readceras. The Saint’s War had left their homeland drained in strength; too many men of the Iron Flail were just past the flush of boyhood, too young to have truly known war. Perhaps Adaryc should say the same for himself… Nonetheless, every man of the Iron Flail carried their title with pride. Young or old, each of them were forged like iron—a common man’s material yet none can find a metal more dependable and steadfast. As Adaryc finished addressing them, he could tell they had many questions, yet they did nothing but immediately acknowledge his orders. Whatever their misgivings, their faith was absolute, both in him and Eothas. Yes, there was no doubt that these men would follow him into Rymrgand’s maw if it came to it.

Garion met Adaryc at the bottom of the stairs of the watchtower platform, shaking his head in wry amusement. “And here I was, dreaming of having the legendary White Forge right down my quarters. I suppose I have to settle for visiting it like any other tourist once this whole thing blows over.” If the man felt any resentment towards Adaryc’s decision, he did not show it. Readcerans were all too familiar with handling disappointment, after all. “I’ve secured the perimeter of the fort as you asked, Commander,” reported Garion. “Although Deryan has been having some trouble with some…visitors.”

“Looters?” asked Adaryc.

“They claim to be lost pilgrims,” said Garion, a wrinkle forming on his already worn brow. “Deryan might have very well have sent them on their way by now. Still, I advise that we follow up with him about this. They’re a suspicious lot, these ones.”

Adaryc grimaced. Deryan never was the best at dealing with foreigners. Just a few days ago, he had started a fight with a group of Valian traders over their poor Aedyran. “If I must,” said Adaryc.

He and Garion walked through the camp at each other sides. They watched the soldiers busy themselves with pitching down the tents and readying their horses. If they weren’t going to storm the Battery, it was decided they would relocate closer to the Readceran border where they had easier access to supply lines. Ironically, their movements could very well be seen as them marching towards the Battery. Adaryc was never the best at the more bureaucratic duties of a commander; he was used to wielding weapons, not letters. More the reason that he choose his words carefully once he parlays with the people of Stalwart. This would be the first test of the uneasy pact this Hero of Stalwart forged, he supposed.

“But honestly, why the change of heart?” asked Garion, snapping the Commander from his reverie. “Was this one any more persuasive than their last sorry crop of delegates?”

“She was no diplomat, true enough,” said Adaryc, keeping his sights set forward.

Garion smirked. “Ah, a woman.”

“A Watcher.”

“Truly?” asked Garion incredulously. “The world is full of charlatans pretending they know the true depths of your soul, from one heretic animancer or cipher. Hmm…” He scratched his bearded chin. “Though I suppose if anyone can tell a real Watcher from a fraud…”

“She’s the one in Caed Nua,” said Adaryc. “I saw it firsthand. In her memories…just as she saw mine.”

 Garion let out a low whistle. “Another Watcher here of all places. What are the odds?”

“Apparently the same odds of her having the same vision I did. Their lands are in as much danger as ours it seems.”

“And you saw it in this Watcher’s memories?”

“What she saw was no different from my own visions.”

“Just from a different perspective, eh?”

“It was certainly illuminating to say the least. Make no mistake, Garion. There is indeed an army marching towards Readceras, but it’s not Dyrwoodan.” As Adaryc declared this to his lieutenant, unease seeped into his mind. The memories and sensations he gathered from Snowflake’s essence told him that she was no liar. But if not the Dyrwood, then what could possibly cause that kind of destruction? The two men shared a moment of thoughtful silence punctuated by the crunch of gravel beneath their boots.

“Still, a bit too intimate to be rummaging through each other souls, isn’t it?” said Garion, only half-joking.

Adaryc frowned. “It was hardly a pleasant experience,” he professed. It certainly came as a shock, but he would be lying if he said that he didn’t find it consoling, humbling even, to see another manage to stand on that threshold between the living and dead—walk that tightrope between wisdom and madness.

Garion was about to comment further until he saw the gate a few feet from them. “I can’t believed he hasn’t sent them on their way by now,” he said. “Or at least shot them full of arrows.”

Deryan was trying not to scream, and failing miserably.“You’re toeing the line, orlan!” they overheard him shout.

“Toeing, maybe,” the orlan said with a smirk, “But everyone can agree I’m not crossing it. Maneha, you have both eyes. Tell me, am I crossing this valiant soldier’s line?”

A huge aumaua woman, easily three times the size of the orlan, bent over to examine the ground. To Adaryc’s embarrassment, it seems the Deryan did indeed draw a line in the snow. “I don’t think so,” the aumaua said, a tad too cheerful. “Line’s still pretty clear from here.”

“Come now,” said another aumaua with an embarrassed smile and a remarkably smooth baritone. “There’s no need for hostility. Our friend merely jests.”

“Or am I?” said the orlan, waggling his only eyebrow and inching closer to that godsdamned line.

Deryan’s knuckles turned white as he clenched his bow. “I won’t warn you twice, you little savage—”

“Deryan!”

“Commander!” said Deryan, standing to attention.

The orlan wasn’t cowed by the Commander’s sudden appearance. He only grinned wider.

“Who are these intruders?” sneered Adaryc. “And why have you not killed them?”

“Believe me, I would have loved to,” muttered Deryan so only Adaryc could hear, “but I wouldn’t dare risk angering a god so close to his dominion,” He glanced askance at the disfigured orlan. “They say they are worshipers of Abydon, sir.”

One of them, an elven man, coughed. “Ah, yes…Yes, we are!” This one’s accent made it clear as glass that he was Aedyran. It was uncommon to find his kind on the other side of the Dyrwood, but he appeared to be more well-mannered than his companions at least. If only he didn’t keep nervously glancing over the Iron Flail men’s shoulders like an anxious young woman waiting for her date. “We wished to bask in the fires of Abydon’s White Forge,” rattled the Aedyran, “so we should really be heading—”

“Strange, you don’t look like smiths,” remarked Adaryc. “And if I’m not mistaken, that’s a symbol of Wael.”

“What, this?” said the orlan, pointing at his eyepatch. “Where in the Daily Affirmations does it say that a disciple of Abydon can’t appreciate good Wael iconography?”

“Uh…of course!” piped up the aumaua man. “Our Daily Affirmations of Focus and Efficiency do say to ‘value the works of others and they will value your works in return.’”

“Did Abydon also neglect to tell his followers that Durgan’s Battery is __that__ way?” seethed Deryan through gritted teeth.

“We’re in no rush,” said the orlan. “It is our sworn duty to recite all eight of Abydon’s Daily Affirmation of Focus and Efficiency to all that might need it.” He swept a hand to the aumaua man. “Now, Kana, if you please.”

_Kana…that name seemed familiar._

“Enough,” said Adaryc before the aumaua could open his mouth. “I don’t know what this act is for, but I’ve already dealt with your leader.”

Adaryc felt a collective line of confusion run through them.

The aumaua woman looked particularly tense. “We have no idea what you mean,” she said. Adaryc could see her hands edging towards her weapons, the movement almost imperceptible under her cloak.

“You all came here with the Hero of Stalwart, the one who gave these villagers their forge,” stated Adaryc, his gaze sweeping all four of them. “The Watcher at Caed Nua.”

This time, they did not bother disguising their shock. The Aedyran elf paled but still maintained a semblance of composure, enough to stare daggers at the Commander. Beside him, the vapor of of the female aumaua’s breath in the cold was like that of a bull ready to charge at a moment’s provocation.

“I swear,” growled the orlan, reaching for his spear and baring his fangs, “If you did anything to her—”

“Careful now,” warned Adaryc. “There’s a reason you aren’t dead where you stand.” He meant to placate them, but it was clear they took his words as a threat. “Snowflake and I came to an under—”

Before he could finish explaining, the ground shook with a violent tremor, almost knocking them off their feet.

“An earthquake?” asked Garion.

“In these mountains?” said Deryan. “We better brace ourselves for an avalanche, then.”

“Wait,” said the orlan, his single ear twitching. “Do you hear that?”

They were all silent, listening…waiting. Adaryc did hear something: footfalls in the snow, getting louder and louder. His eyes scanned the bottom of the hill until he saw the unmistakable outline of a...child? No, it was a dwarf, making their way uphill in a desperate crawl.

“Sagani?” exclaimed the male aumaua.

The dwarf was signaling frantically with her free arm as she sprinted up the hill towards them. A white fox was trailing at her heels, snapping at an invisible enemy behind them.

“Everyone!” she shouted as she ran past them, firing arrows down the hill. “Take cover!”

As soon as she said it, a dark metal pole, longer than the walls of their fort and half as thick, shot through the sky. Its shadow blotted the entire bridge where they stood. More frightening than its size, though, were the black veins that spread across the snow as it pierced the ground with an earth-shattering force. Splinters flew in every direction as a considerable part of their wall was utterly destroyed.

“Deryan, arm the ballistas! Garion, have the archers at the ready!” yelled Adaryc. His soldiers did not hesitate for a moment. They were in the fort screaming commands and sorting through the chaos as soon as their commander gave the order.

Adaryc then turned swiftly to the dwarf. “And you, explain—” But she was gone, along with the rest of the visitors at their gates. He would deal with them later, then. Right now, he needed to protect his people.

He searched the horizon for any sign of the ogre clans with their cannons or perhaps Stalwart villagers retaliating with siege weapons reinforced with Durgan steel. And he saw it—bigger than any ogre and forged from something more sinister than steel. A small army of giant constructs were trudging towards the Iron Flail’s encampment, the earth shaking and specks of snow flying from the ground with their every footfall. Their defenses would not hold against such enemies.

Just behind him, the war horns sounded. Adaryc pulled a scroll from his cloak and chanted the words as quickly as his tongue allowed. A few Repulsing Seals wouldn’t hold these monsters, but it would buy him time to gather his lieutenants and organize his men. Sure enough, one of the giants fell back as it stepped on the Seal, raising up a flurry of dirt and snow. Volleys of fire and arrows rained down on its prone form, courtesy of the Iron Flail archers and warlocks upon the ramparts.

Finally, everything was still, save for the cloud of thick smoke swirling over the field.

The Iron Flail lieutenants ran to Adaryc’s side.

“Hmph,” said Alrac, his Lieutenant Warlock. “I expected more of a fight from these abominations.”

“Stay on your guard,” said Jarhod, the Lieutenant Votarist, brandishing his flail. “It’s never this easy.”

The smoke hadn’t even cleared when another of those projectiles launched into the air, about to fall where they stood.

“Scatter!” cried Garion.

Jarhod, being the foolish martyr that he was, cast an Armor of Faith around them. It was a scant few seconds’ worth of incantations, but it was enough to have him directly over the monster’s pike. There was no time to run. In one quick movement, Adaryc switched positions with him on the battlefield, swords crossed in front him as he steeled himself to take the brunt of the blow.

There was a crash and Adaryc was showered in dirt. Instead of impaling him, the pole was interrupted mid-air by two large chunks of rock flying overhead. No sooner had the pike landed did another one of those creatures appear out of the smoke before him, barely a scratch on its ghastly form. It raised its club-like arms, ready to bash the Commander to a pulp. Adaryc dodged the attack, almost losing his footing as the ground trembled on impact. Blades drawn, he slashed at the monster’s ankles, tearing its massive tendons. The monster recoiled, tumbling over as it did. Dark smoke rose from its wounded body. Now that he was up close, Adaryc could see the pistons pumping on its chest. Was it organic or machine? It mattered little; a weak spot was a weak spot. He shadow-stepped on top of the creature, cutting the pistons with a sweeping slice. The thing didn’t even make sound as it collapsed, its entire body lying stiff upon the ground.

_So, it isn’t completely invulnerable._

“They’ve breached the barricade!” someone bellowed behind him.

A few of the monsters had fallen, but some had managed to crash through their walls. Adaryc wasted no time running to where the battle was thickest. There were only six of those monsters left—six more than there should be. Groups of his men engaged the creatures, attempting to drive them back. But there was also the aumaua woman taking on two at once and an Autumn Staelgar, far from it natural habitat, pouncing at another’s neck. One of the monsters relentlessly pursued a unit of archers, until three large tentacles sprouted from the ground, grappling its body. The songs of the male aumaua resounded through the battlefield, flowing into him and filling him an unshakable bravado.

“Use your swords, men!” shouted Adaryc. “They’re vulnerable to our blades!”

The soldiers lifted their swords and axes with a reverberating war cry, hacking and slashing with a zealous fervor.

However, Adaryc’s cry attracted the monsters’ attention. They lumbered towards him with a speed and purpose he would have thought impossible for such creatures. It was too close quarters for Adaryc to run from them...

So, he ran towards them.

He slipped between their ankles, cutting through with his blades as his slid through the snow. He could only snake around them for too long, however.The fog of his breath came fast and hot, and his vision was riddled with black spots. The cacophony of fighting and chanting around him seemed to grow distant and his hold on his weapons was starting to shake. He was tired. Behind him, one of the monsters raised both arms…

There was a blinding flash of light followed by a thunderous bang. The smell of gunpowder was overwhelming. He could see nothing but white, save for the towering silhouettes of the Eyeless. The world appeared to have been shot silent. A soft whistle rang in his ears, barely audible at first until they seemed to sound like a word.

_Eyeless…_

Something whispered in his essence, recalling images of the Battery and its long-lost guardians. Thoughts of his dream also rose to the surface—the nightmare of a thousand eyes.

_They’re called the Eyeless._

A black streak sped past him. When he regained his eyesight, only one Eyeless was left standing. It was paralyzed in an awkward mid-run pose that would be comical if Adaryc had the energy to be amused. It took a while for him to notice someone standing comfortably on its shoulder. A silver blunderbuss glinted in her hand.

“The Watcher from Caed Nua...” breathed Adaryc.

She placed a hand upon the Eyeless’s head and murmured a phrase. Was she speaking to it? For a split-second, an ember of rage formed inside Adaryc. Did she control these monsters? Was she the one who brought them to his camp?

But the betrayal he felt was quickly extinguished as the last of the Eyeless crumbled to dust—its ashes indistinguishable from the soot and dirt of the battlefield. She fell to the ground with a light thud, covered in snow and smoke. It would have made for an impressive landing if not for the soft, “Ow,” she said at the end. She made her way to Adaryc and offered him her hand. Still dazed from the fight, Adaryc had some trouble standing.

 ** **“Those things…”****  he said, his head pounding. ****“They came from all sides! The delegate—No, YOU were right. The visions were true.”****

“That sounds about right,” she said, trying to wipe the soot and blood off her face.

He looked her over. Not only was she an Awakened Watcher, the woman also appeared to be a cipher. It was a wonder just how many afflictions of the soul one person could have. Although it was hard to believe that the same person who disintegrated one of the Eyeless right before his eyes was also this waifish elf smearing gunk all over her face. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

 ** **“You fought well,”**** he said. ****“And I’m glad to see you’ve come through in one piece. Not many of my men were so lucky.”****

Her companions gathered around her. They were nursing some cuts and bruises but were otherwise uninjured. Adaryc wished he could say the same thing for his own men. He looked at the remains of his camp. There were too many dead bodies. He was too unprepared; he should have seen this coming. He would have some supplies to check, wounded to tend to, and letters to write for the families waiting back home. But first things were first.

 ****“I’ll take what’s left of my forces—those that will follow me—further up the mountain,”**** he said. ** **“We should be prepared, if…when those monsters return.”** **

Snowflake stared at him curiously. He wondered if she was attempting to peer into his soul again. More likely, she found it difficult to find what to say to someone who had lost so many friends in one day. As anyone would, he supposed. ****“Good luck, Commander,”****  she said finally.

Adaryc gave her a nod. ****“And to you. If these visions really will come to pass, the worse is yet come.”****

He bowed his head, but before he could turn away, he said, “And thank you. For saving my life.”

The orlan scoffed. “I saved your life first, pal.”

“Regardless, I hope to return the favor one day,” said Adaryc.

A look of pain crossed Snowflake’s face, as if he had invoked the name of a dead loved one. It passed quickly, though, and soon enough, she was laughing.

“You’re welcome to try,” she said.


	3. Matron Beregan Proves That Ogres Have Layers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold text is lifted directly from game dialogue with minor edits.

No one was happy to see the Readceran commander near Durgan’s Battery. The workers gave him a wide berth, but Adaryc need not see their faces to feel their glares boring through his skull. The source of their hostility towards him was no mystery: It was only days ago when they defended the Battery’s walls from the Iron Flail’s siege weapons. No doubt that memory was still as vibrant as newly-forged steel, sharp and eager for his blood.

And so, as a show of good faith, Stalwart’s leaders demanded that the commander come to the parley alone. His lieutenants, of course, were against this, but he had little choice but to agree. Too much rested on this meeting. This was not simply a matter of securing a truce between Stalwart and the Iron Flail. The Commander hoped—no,  _ _needed__  to forge an alliance. When the time comes, these smiths and builders could be Readceras’s only line of defense against the Eyeless.

“If it isn’t Commander Flail!” greeted a hearth orlan as she met him at the gates of the Battery. She reeked of gunpowder and tufts of her fur were singed black. “Gave up on your dreams on being the new Waidwen?”

Adaryc frowned but otherwise ignored her taunts. “I was promised an audience with the Cannons’ Master.”

“You’re looking at her!” she said, pounding her chest with pride. “Name’s Wengra, and I’ll be the first one to blast that army of yours to smithereens if it comes anywhere close to here.”

A Dyrwoodan if there ever was one—so eager to blow up their problems with little regard for anything else other than satisfying their fetish for destruction.

“In fact,” she continued, “you came here just in time. Follow me!” She ran inside the Battery, impatiently pausing at the threshold of the gates. “Well, what are you standing around there for? C’mon!”

Adaryc’s disdain was colored with a wave of pity. She seemed so young—small even for an orlan. Just another child playing at war. And here he thought the Legacy had made the Dyrwood protective of their children. But if humoring the whims of a child was what these people considered a formal meeting, then so be it. Hopefully, he could get a word in once he sufficiently fulfilled his role as the humble guest.

It wasn’t difficult to catch up with the orlan’s pace. When he stepped into the halls of the Battery, however, Adaryc had to stop himself. It was if he had entered another world. The walls, high as the tops of the tallest trees, gleamed even through centuries of neglect. Tendrils of ice crept at the corners, but it would take eons to truly dull the craftsmanship of this place. Still, those fingers of cold signified something tragic—death had touched this place. The workers had brought some life and fire back into the fortress, but there would be no removing the skeletons frozen into the stonework.

Wengra lead him down the winding corridors with a spring in her step. Adaryc silently hoped this wasn’t some scheme to trap him in these labyrinthine halls.

“I’m assuming this is worthy of our time,” he said.

“Oh, believe me, you’re gonna wanna see this,” replied Wengra with a wicked grin. “You did come all this way for our cannons, right?”

She was closer to the truth than she realized. That, or she was less naive than Adaryc thought.

They stepped on a huge metal platform, along with some other Stalwart workers.

“Watch your step,” said Wengra as she pulled the adjacent lever.

The massive pulley groaned, wounding the rusty chains that held up the platform. A few torches illuminated its loud yet steady rise. Beady eyes blinked at them from the darkness—bats, maybe even skuldrak. Adaryc could feel the chill winds as they ascended, until finally, they were at the very epoch of the Battery.

It was a small miracle the winds weren’t buffeting them at this altitude. And as Adaryc made his way through the battlements, he saw the divine contraption that made that miracle possible: A blazing furnace crowning the Battery’s West Tower. Red sparks flew from its grating, dancing with white snowflakes before melting them away. At the center of it all was a macabre skeletal hand. Its fingers held atop a globe of steel, intricately detailed with images of what he can only assume are the Pargrunen dwarves. But as awe-inspiring as that was, Adaryc’s was busy admiring another piece of the tower’s fine craftsmanship.

“I didn’t think they would be operational,” said Adaryc, looking over the line of heavy cannons.

“The Watcher cleared up the West Tower for us,” said Wengra. “After that, it was smooth sailing. Had to teach these yahoos a thing or two about ballistics but other than that—”

“A Watcher?”

“Not a Watcher,  _ _the__ Watcher. You know, the same person who opened the White Forge? Wow, you must be really out of the loop.”

So, it was Snowflake. First, the forge, and now the cannons…What else did she have a hand in? Personally, he thought it careless that she let everyone and their mother know of her…condition. But this was the Dyrwood, not Readceras. What was a Watcher in a country that let animancers play at being gods? It was strange that no one can ever remember her name, though…

Just as Adaryc was recalling their first meeting in the Iron Flail encampment, he caught a glimpse of something on one of the cannons: a strange shape that clearly wasn’t part of the base’s engravings. He examined it closer to find that it was a pig’s face—etched by a blunt dagger, if he had to guess. Adaryc grimaced. The fact that it was as crude as a child’s drawing was further insult to this ancient masterwork. But as he ran a gloved hand over the cannon’s shaft, it disappeared. It was nothing but a cipher’s artifice—a small imprint of her essence to be found by someone who knew what to look for.

“Impressive,” murmured Adaryc begrudgingly.

“Beauties, aren’t they?” said Wengra, patting one of the cannons. “The artillery you saw from the gate has nothing on these when it comes to pure explosive power. But why keep talking about it, when I can just show you?” Wengra pointed to the spot hundreds of feet below them. “You see that over there?”

Adaryc could see nothing but a swirl of wind and snow. “What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?”

“Used to be a road down there, but it got blocked by an avalanche,” explained Wengra. She rubbed her hands in excitement and adjusted the nearest cannon’s position. Its movement was remarkably smooth for something that looked so heavy. Wengra loaded it with surprising efficiency, like this was all second-nature to her.

“FIRE!” she hollered, almost singing the word.

Adaryc staggered backward, caught off guard by the deafening explosion. It only took him a few seconds to reorient himself, but by that time, the snow blockade had been replaced by a circle of soot. The fact that these weapons can be that precise from so far away…

“You wanted to go through that mountain pass, right?” said Wengra, her grin absolutely wolfish. Adaryc didn’t miss the hint of malice in her tone. This was a threat as much as it was a helping hand.

Adaryc wasn’t too fond of being threatened, but he stopped whatever vitriol he felt from seeping into his tone. There were bigger things on the line than his ego. “Your demonstration is…appreciated.” He crossed his arms, his posture stuff. “There is a reason I’m taking my men to the mountain border. An army of these…unnatural beings attacked our fort. We managed to fend them off but…” Adaryc gaze was distant, and tired. “My forces were reduced to a fraction of what they were, so I suggest aiming those cannons at the bigger target. We slew a dozen of the creatures, but I know for a fact that there are more out there.”

Wengra eyes were wide. “Were these things giants? Able to tear an aumaua limb by limb?”

Adaryc looked into the orlan’s eyes and recognized her fear. “You’ve seen them.”

“No, but…” Wengra shook her head. “We need to tell Deryan.” She beckoned for him to follow as she made her way down the tower with a panicked gait.

“Deryan’s the go-between us at the Battery and the rest of the people back at Stalwart,” explained Wengra. “He should be here today checking on the forge.”

“Very well,” said Adaryc. “The people of Stalwart also need to be made aware of the situation as soon as possible.”

It was a quick journey back to the halls of the Battery. Their footsteps reverberating against the walls like a hundred more people were trailing behind them.

“So, these things…” said Wengra. “Nothing our firepower can’t fix, eh?”

“They seem impervious to fire, actually,” answered Adaryc.

Wengra stopped in her tracks. “What?!”

“With enough force, they can be felled like any other monstrosity. Snowflake—The Watcher, she and her companions…” The memory of Snowflake’s blunderbuss and the smell of gunpowder played out in his mind. “They aren’t immune to explosives, I assure you.”

“You should have told me that to begin with!” said Wengra, regaining the bounce in her step. She chuckled to herself. “Then a cannonball or two to the face ought to do the...Deryan?”

A man stood just below the archway of the great doors of the Battery. His deep dark skin, more common to Valian nobility than a Dyrwoodan miner, was striking even from a distance. There was something about Deryan that made Adaryc sympathize with him. Perhaps it was the fact that he shared the same name with one of the Iron Flail’s best scouts. Maybe it was more that the man looked like he was on the verge of a nervous break. He was flanked by armed men, but even they looked shakier than the man they were protecting.

“I told you, Beregan!” said Deryan. “There are no more monsters at the Battery! We cleared them out.”

A gruff female voice answered Deryan with a huff. “My dreams say differently, human. This place will spew out death and destruction—a generational punishment. I must crush it before it reaches my clan. So, I will say once more: Move aside. I have no quarrel with Stalwart. The Watcher brokered a peace between our people, but I will break it if you force my hand.” An ogre, with her own retinue of guards, lifted her weapon into her massive scarred fists. The humans’ swords seemed like splinters in comparison to her club.

“It was the Watcher that killed all the monsters in the Battery.” Despite the cold, sweat was forming on Deryan’s brow. “Look, she’s at the forge right now. If I could get her to vouch that—”

Adaryc stood to attention hearing them mention Snowflake. What was she doing back at the Battery? He was suddenly very curious about what was going on down in the forge.

“Deryan!” yelled Wengra, squeezing herself past the two guards. “I’ve got news you need to hear.”

“Can it wait?” said Deryan. “We’re in the middle of something right now.”

“Oh no, you’re gonna wanna hear this,” insisted Wengra.

“Let us through,  _ _now__ ,” growled Beregan.

One of the guards stepped back. “Deryan, maybe we should just let her do what she wants.”

Deryan kneaded his forehead with his fingers. “No, we—”

“Deryan, this is important,” said Wengra, tugging at his arm.

“My patience is growing thin, human.”

“Deryan, please—”

“Should I fetch the Watcher—”

“Take one more step—”

“If you would just hear me out—”

“Don’t you dare threaten our matron—”

“W-w-we’ll defend the Battery—”

Tensions were rising fast, and Deryan appeared to be shrinking into himself. Adaryc had seen more hardened men than he balk at the sight of an aggressive ogre matron, and Deryan was just a village miner.

Adaryc stepped forward, putting himself between the ogres and Deryan. “Enough!”

Deryan seemed to regain his focus at the sight of Adaryc. “You…” he mumbled, his confusion gradually being replaced with indignant rage. “You’re the Readceran who tried to take the Battery from Stalwart!”

“He’s on our side now, Deryan!” said Wengra.

Adaryc turned to Matron Beregan. “The portents you saw aren’t inside the Battery. If they were, they left long ago. A thousand eyes, trailing destruction wherever it goes. That's your army of destruction, is it not?”

“How do you know of the eyes?” whispered Beregan.

Deryan rounded on Wengra. “How can we trust anything he says? He imprisoned our people! Killed them!”

“And I apologize for that,” said Adaryc, folding his hands in front of him. “I made a mistake and lives were lost on my own side because of it. I don’t expect your forgiveness, but give the Iron Flai—give me a chance to redeem myself. Prevent more of our own from dying.”

“Redemption?” scoffed Deryan. “You Readcerans sure love throwing that word around.”

“He knows what killed the hunters in the forest, Deryan,” urged Wengra. “Just hear us out here. The Watcher even saw them for herself! If we get the cannons going and work together we can—”

“Work together?” spat Deryan in both shock and disgust. “No, absolutely not!”

“You weren’t so hung up about making peace with these dirty ogres!” said Wengra, her voice and temper rising. Matron Beregan bristled at the orlan’s words. “But I guess you don’t care about that because you weren’t in Stalwart when they were raiding our village every other month, were you? You don’t care about the village at all. If it weren’t for the forge, you wouldn’t have given two boar’s shits about it!”

“Wengra, that’s not—”

“No, it’s true! Where were you when our mines were failing? When old Taena almost lost her leg because of a cave-in? When Renengild asked the Dyrwood for help, it’s not like you came in droves like you do now.” She stepped back with a shake of her head and sigh. “Stop acting like you know what’s best for Stalwart.”

Their ensuing silence echoed through the halls of the fortress. Deryan stared at his feet as if he had dropped his words.

“Wengra! Deryan!” A forge worker ran up to them, almost tripping over her own feet. “The Watcher, she—” The dwarven woman took a while to catch her breath. “She’s reforging Abydon’s Hammer!”

“What? _The_  Abydon?” asked Wengra.

Deryan gaped at her. “That’s impossible, no smith—”

The woman threw her hands up in frustration. “I know, I know! Just…see for yourselves.”

Deryan and Wengra shared a confused look before following the dwarf woman. Adaryc himself wanted to know the veracity of the woman’s claims, far-fetched as they were. Snowflake had accomplished a great and many things—he had seen that for himself—but reconstructing a tool of a god?

“Step aside,” ordered Beregan as she pushed past the other workers blocking the doorway. Without Deryan, they didn’t bother stopping the ogres from following him.

Beregan easily caught up to the four kith. As they strode through the halls, Deryan’s eyes flitted uneasily from the ogres to the Battery workers, many of whom were backing away in fear. “Please, don’t hurt anyone here.”

The ogre guards simply grunted in response.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then…”

“You have my word,” said Beregan. “But do I have your assurances as well?”

“About what?”

“That you will help my clan defeat the eyes.”

“I can’t promise that right now.”

“You must. We all have people we need to protect. The sun-emblazoned man saw it. They will come.”

 ** **“I’ve heard enough,”****  said Deryan with a stomp of his foot. They had reached the forge.

The fabled White Forge was everything and nothing Adaryc had imagined. He expected the oppressive heat that permeated the air and the smell of iron that reminded him of spilled blood, but the forge shaped like a dragon’s maw and the glowing, otherworldly metal that Snowflake was shaping on it came as a surprise. Everyone in the room was fixed on the forge and the sound of steel pounding on steel, including her. Sweat glistened on her pale brow, falling on the surface of the anvil with a soft hiss. Adaryc wondered how she had the strength to carry even a smithing hammer, until he saw strands of essence wrapped around her arm like a cast.

“You still okay there, Snowflake?”asked her aumaua female companion. Maneha was her name, if Adaryc recalled correctly.

Snowflake used her free arm to give her a thumbs up, still not taking her eyes off her work. However, the strain was obvious with every swing of the hammer. Perhaps it was necessary that she be the one to reforge it. To make a god’s instrument, you must embody the god: focus, labor, and perseverance. The glow of the forged was reflected in her eyes, and her whole bluish form stood in such contrast to the rivers of molten metal. Adaryc couldn’t take his eyes off her.

 ** **“This threatens all of us now,”**** said Matron Beregan, not as affected by the sight as the kith were. Of course, she couldn’t know the significance of this moment. She didn’t share their gods.

 ** **“She’s right,”**** said Adaryc, forcing himself to tear his gaze away and reminding himself of why he was here. ****“**** ** **We’ve got to fight together.” ** **His shoulders are rigid and his arms are clasped in front of him.********

But even as he looked away, it was clear when the final blow was struck. A divine light flooded the room, the forge grew hot and red as a molten ember, and everyone collectively held their breath. Finally, Snowflake held the warhammer aloft, her arm shaking visibly as she did. If it was not Abydon’s hammer itself, it was still something that seemed fit for him.

“Easy there, Snowflake,” said Sagani, the boreal dwarf, helping Snowflake down from the forge.

The same strange pig trotted towards her, sniffing at the hammer as she held it out. 

“Here,” said Snowflake, handing the hammer to Maneha. “It’ll be useful, I think.”

“You think?” said the orlan—Hiravias, was it?—incredulously. “All that for ‘you think’?”

“How do you feel?” asked Kana, the excitement clear on his face. “On second thought, tell me later. You might be feeling a bit too winded to speak of the details.”

And for the first time, Snowflake noticed their company among them. The ogres were hard to miss, at least. “Matron Beregan…” she said weakly. Her eyes trailed to Adaryc and once again, he felt pierced by her gaze. “Adaryc Cendamyr…” Was his last name something she extracted from his memories?

****Wengra saw her and pointed enthusiastically. “See, Deryan? The Watcher’ll tell you—we can stop ‘em!”** **

****Tension crackled in the air. Deryan whirled and cut Wengra off with a chopping motion. “If she’s seen them, she’ll know better.”** **

“I don’t really know anything,” said Snowflake.

****Despite Deryan’s steady posture, his eyes flitted and flickered like flies, and his upper lip shined with sweat. “Something killed a whole crew of hunters out in the wood. Tore ‘em apart like dolls. Insects.”** **

****“Something like the creatures that attacked my fort, perhaps?”**** suggested Adaryc.

****Beregan muttered in agitation.** **

****“I told ya!”**** said Wengra. ** **“All we gotta do is get ‘em in range of these cannons, and then we blast ‘em!” She brought her hands together in a loud clap.****

****Deryan shut his mouth and breathed loudly through his nose. “We don’t even know what they are.”** **

****“I do,”**** said Snowflake. ****“They’re known as the Eyeless.”****

Everyone looked at her expectantly. “Yes?” prompted Deryan.

“And they don’t have eyes,” she added.

Deryan sighed. “Clearly, she’s too disoriented.”

“This is only slightly different from how she usually is,” said Aloth with the fond smile of an embarrassed father with an eccentric child. “Not that she’s mistaken by any means. They are, indeed, eye-less.”

“Tools of a god,” rambled Snowflake. “Goddess now, I suppose. She wants people to forget about, about…the White Forge. I brought it back, and now everyone in the White March remembers.” She stares at her swollen hands. They were bare, and without her gloves, Adaryc noticed more than one of her fingers were missing.

“We learned from a cult of fanatic Ondrites that the Eyeless are under the goddess Ondra's command,” elaborated Kana as he helped Sagani and her fox steady Snowflake. “And that she wished to wipe away the memory of the White Forge, along with the other secrets that were buried in Durgan's Battery. Everyone who knows of the forge's existence will be hunted down by her Eyeless.”

“Unfortunately,” said Aloth, his tone grave, “that means almost everyone in the Dyrwood.”

****Beregan’s gaze was distant with horror. “The destruction my dreams warned me of.” Suddenly, she rounded Wengra and Deryan. “And your greed and recklessness brought them on us all.” She rolled her shoulders back and bared her teeth at the two villagers. Rage hung on her like a musk.** **

****Deryan and Wengra each took a step back and squared off against the ogres.** **

****“You burning our village didn’t help matters none.” Wengra’s feral grimace exposed needle-sharp teeth.** **

****Beregan’s****   ** **nostrils flared. “It wasn’t my clan that attacked you.”** **

****“No difference,”**** snarled the orlan. ****“One ogre stinks as bad as the next.”****

“Whoa,” interjected Maneha. “This isn’t the place for casual racism. Then again, so is everywhere else…”

 ** **“Beregan,”**** teased Snowflake, ** **“**** ** **did you come all this way out here just to say ‘I told you so’?”****

****Beregan folded her hands. “I came to offer my clan’s help. The White March has been our home for centuries. We’ll defend it alongside you.” The ogres flanking her grunted assent.** **

**Everyone gawked at the ogres, but Snowflake simply gave Beregan a solemn nod. ** **“Very well.”******

****Beregan presented an ancient, banded horn in both of her callused hands, holding it out to Snowflake. “Sound it anywhere in the White March, and three of my best warrior will be at your side.” She bowed. “Your battles become ours.”****

****Deryan coughed into his fist. “What’s your plan for dealing with them, exactly?”** **

****“The Eyeless are hidden at Cayron’s Scar,”**** said Snowflake. ****“**** ** **I’ll face them there.”****

****Wengra and Deryan gape at each other in disbelief.** **

****“That lake’s notorious!”**** exclaimed Wengra. ****“Folks never come back that—” She broke off, her eyes suddenly wide. “Oh.”****

Adaryc rubbed his chin in thought. “Do you know how many of them you’ll be facing? A score? Half a hundred, maybe?”

“Thousands. Most of them are dormant, however. Frozen…I think.”

“Again, with that ‘I think’ nonsense,” said Hiravias. “Are you ever sure of anything, Snowflake?”

“And how do you plan on taking on such numbers?” asked Adaryc.

Snowflake massaged her temples, closing her eyes. “Cayron’s Scar is…a lake. They’re in the middle of it, on a floating moon rock. The Eyeless can’t swim. They weren’t built for that.”

“Moon…rock? I don’t think I follow,” said Deryan.

“No, no,” interrupted Wengra, effectively silencing Deryan with a wave of her hand. “It makes total sense! Cayron’s Scar is covered in ice. If we break the ice while they’re on it, they’ll sink to the bottom!”

Adaryc nodded thoughtfully. The plan wasn’t half-bad. ****“You’ll need all the help you can get. I have fewer men to offer than I would like, but the Iron Flail stands ready. Our siege weapons are at your disposal.”****

****Deryan bristled “The same ones you threw at the Battery’s walls?”** **

****Adaryc didn’t look at him. “These Eyeless will come for us all if they aren’t stopped here and now.”** **

****Deryan’s face flushed. “Forget it. You’re not bringing your army into our backyard.” He looked to Snowflake and nodded. “Tell him.”** **

Snowflake looked straight at Adaryc. “You’re bringing your army into our backyard,” she repeated.

“You know that’s not what I meant!” muttered Deryan under his breath, glancing sideways at Adaryc. “I don’t trust him. Don’t like him too much, either.”

“I like him,” stated Snowflake. Adaryc was taken aback by her bluntness, although it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant surprise.

“Now’s not really the time to be rejecting anyone’s help here, kid,” scolded Sagani, though not unkindly.

****“I guess you’re right.” Deryan looked down at the spot his heel had grounded into the grit. “Won’t be anything left of Stalwart if we don’t stop these monsters, anyway.”** **

****Wengra grinned, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “You know, those heavy cannons you fixed might come in handy.” Deryan started to groan, and she held up both hands. “Hear me out! Cayron’s Scar should be just in range for those guns. You just point out your target, and I’ll do the rest.”** **

****“If those thing are on the move, we don’t have much time,” said Deryan.** **

“Three days,” said Snowflake. “We’ll march on Cayron’s Scar in three days.”

"In the meantime," said Maneha, testing the balance of the hammer in her painted hands, "the village would serve as a good gathering point. We can all resupply and talk about what we're going to do there. Gods know I could use a warm bed after all this.”

Deryan looked anxious at the suggestion. Adaryc wasn’t so sure about it himself, but he couldn’t deny that after the attack on their fort, the Iron Flail’s stocks were running low.

“My clan will stay in the Russetwood,” said Beregan. “But I will be at hand when you are ready to speak of battle plans.” And with that, she lumbered away with her guards.

“The Iron Flail will take only what’s necessary and fortify ourselves in the mountain borders,” assured Adaryc. “We won’t trouble your village.”

“Phooey!” Wengra gave Adaryc a forceful pat on the back. “Haeferic would be bouncing up and down right now if he knew the business you just gave him! I wouldn’t worry too much about ‘troubling the village.’”

Deryan's face was grim, but there was some concern beneath it as well. The boy was no warrior, but even knew they had a difficult fight ahead of them.  **“If you’re really gonna stop them, take this.”** He handed Snowflake a pouch of refined Durgan steel ingots. ****“It’s the best of the ore we’ve pulled from Stalwart’s mines. It’s not much, but it’s good enough to make the old Pargrunen smiths proud."****

 ** **"I’m sorry about what I said before,” continued Deryan, not looking at anyone in particular. ** **“Just don’t take it out on the rest of our village.******** I'll try to work something out with Tarfos.”

"Last I heard, Tarfos was making the Watcher run the village, that lazy old coal sack," joked Wengra. "So if she trusts you, you're basically good to go."

Adaryc was indeed glad for Snowflake's trust, perhaps even more than he would admit, but he wasn't entirely certain what he did to deserve it. This alliance was as necessary as it was tenuous, however. At the corner of his eye, he saw Steadfast hanging from her hip and he felt something in his soul stir.

He looked to Snowflake, a question lingering in his expression. She gave Adaryc an exhausted yet nevertheless encouraging thumbs up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak peeks of upcoming chapters are available at myrtells.tumblr.com


	4. The Only Person Who Can Beat Sagani in a Drinking Game is Durance, and That's Only Because That Man is Never Sober

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold text is lifted directly from game dialogue.

The gamblers were quick to clear out of the basement of the Gréf’s Rest the moment Haeferic shooed them out. The innkeeper proudly insisted that it was the best war room they could get in Stalwart, availing them both privacy and the company of fine wines. More importantly, the basement’s pine table was massive enough to accommodate eleven people discussing tactics as it did card-dealers. Adaryc’s lieutenants, Garion and Jarhod, sat uneasily on either side of him. Many of his men were apprehensive about this alliance with Dyrwoodans and ogres—neither of which they considered to be the most civilized company—but this would not be the first time the Iron Flail turned to…unconventional measures in the name of defending their homeland. Tarfos, the current mayor of Stalwart, looked just as uncomfortable right across from them, sneaking glances at the Readcerans every now and again. His anxiety was only exacerbated by Wengra who seemed far too excited for the battle ahead. Most of the seats, however, were taken by the Watcher and her companions, as they would be the ones charging into the heart of the lion’s den.

A detailed map of the White March lay unfurled on the table, framed by ledgers and reports. Snowflake rested a gloved finger on the center of Cayron’s Scar.

“Ionni Brathr,” she said. “That’s where most of the Eyeless are.”

“That’s a long walk from the lakeside,” said Tarfos, stroking his beard. “The ice floes are thick, but there isn’t always a guarantee of a path.”

Aloth rubbed two of his fingers together thoughtfully, sparks emanating from them. “If it comes to that, we can make a path.”

“Also, we best strike when the ice is thinnest,” added Jarhod. “Easier for the catapults to break the ice and dislodge the rock when the time comes.”

“High noon then,” said Tarfos. “But be careful. Reports have been coming in that Ondrite fanatics are somewhere in that area, too.”

“Can’t Ondra just call ‘em off?” asked Wengra. “She’s their goddess, right? And you said you talked to her back in, uh…” Wengra snapped her fingers, trying to remember the name of the temple.

“Gods aren’t exactly the most reliable of allies,” interrupted Hiravias, scratching underneath his eyepatch. “We’re fortunate enough she gave us her permission to destroy these monstrosities, in my opinion.”

“I’ll head a few of my men to scout for any cultists,” said Adaryc. “Most likely, they’ve camped somewhere on high ground where they can monitor the lake. We must secure that position should we wish to have a vantage point above the Eyeless.”

“Yes, about the Eyeless,” said Garion. He waved his hand to the cliff overlooking the lake. “Our ranged units can support you from here, but the Iron Flail can’t afford to reinforce your party should a melee break out. If your group gets cornered…”

“Matron Beregan’s warriors are surprisingly quick.” Snowflake placed Beregan’s horn on the table for everyone to see. “We can’t have too many people fighting on the lake, but we can rely on the Flames-That-Whisper to be there if we get in trouble.”

“One last thing about that lake, Watcher,” said Tarfos, his voice turning low and dark. “There are rumors. Fishermen avoiding it because—”

“It has a kraken,” Snowflake finished bluntly.

Tarfos next words came in a unintelligible spurt. “Well, there goes the one good story I can use to scare the children,” he mumbled.

“A kraken, huh?” Wengra smirk was full of mischief. “A big target like that must be scared of fire.”

Snowflake nodded. “Shoot as soon as you see a tentacle.”

“With pleasure!”

“And what of your plans?” asked Adaryc. “What will you do once you reach the center of the Cayron’s Scar?” There was a wide piece of wood between them, but he was acutely aware of her movements. Was that because of the sword that was holstered on her hip?

Snowflake stared at the map, her ice-blue eyes filled with intensity. After that moment of deliberation, she simply slumped back into her chair with a shrug. “I don’t know.”

Jarhod brows knitted in confusion. “Is…is that a joke?”

Aloth gave the Readcerans a reassuring yet embarrassed smile. “No, I’m afraid not. We, uh, often go into these things impromptu.”

“Hasn’t failed us yet, though,” said Sagani. “That’s when instinct usually takes over.”

“What I know is…” Snowflake considered her words. “We have to take Abydon’s Hammer to Ionni Brathr. The Eyeless, they’ll recognize the hammer. They’ll respond to it.”

“So, what? They’ll flock to it like a swarm of flies to a fish barrel?” Wengra snorted at her own joke.

“Yes,” answered Snowflake.

“Wait, huh?”

“When I was forging Abydon’s Hammer, I saw that it was part of their…creation,” said Snowflake. “It was through the Hammer that I saw Cayron’s Scar—that I saw lines, armies of them, frozen inside Ionni Brathr.”

“Interesting,” muttered Kana, examining the runes of the Hammer that Maneha now held. “That Abydon’s Hammer could make creatures such as these. What use did he have for these living weapons, I wonder?” Kana shook the inquiry from his mind for the moment. “Moreover, do you think what created them would be enough to destroy them?”

“What we have is only a chip from what the god would have wielded. It won’t destroy all of them.” Snowflake raised her head to look directly at everyone across the table. “Which is why we need you to make sure the moon fragment is sunk. When you see the Eyeless have returned to it, that’s when you break the lake.” She forcefully tapped her finger on the blot that was Cayron’s Scar.

Adaryc cocked an eyebrow. “And if your company is still on it?”

Snowflake shared a look with each of her companions. Adaryc felt the camaraderie in their silent exchange, and he wondered what these people had been through together. The Iron Flail’s fraternity was war-forged, with its most veteran members having fought in the Saint’s War. What battles have these strange assortment of kith gone through?

“We can swim,” said Maneha with a flippant shrug.

Tarfos clapped his thick dwarven hands together. “Alright, then! I’ll send a message to Beregan about what we’ve discussed. Abydon knows that ogre’ll rip my head off if I didn’t inform her right away.”

“So, we are adjourned, then,” said Adaryc, rising from his chair.

“You wait just a minute there!” exclaimed Tarfos. “Haeferic wanted me to tell you he’s got a feast prepared for our, ahem, ‘valiant warriors.’”

“A feast?”

“Our fishermen caught one of the biggest trouts this side of the Dyrwood just this morning. You wouldn’t believe the size of this thing! Anyway, Haeferic’s got it roasting on the coals and said it was a sign of the gods’ favor.”

“Ha! And to think you were willing to let that tax collector from Defiance Bay close down the fishery,” said Wengra, half-jumping out of her seat.

“Don’t run up too fast, either,” warned Tarfos. “Knowing Haeferic, it won’t be free. But business is business. Call in your boys and help us get rid of that monster fish.”

Garion and Jarhod gave Adaryc unsure looks.

“Hey, it’s your choice,” said Tarfos, lifting himself off his seat. “My two pands here is that people are much more willing to die for each other once they’ve broken bread and drank some ale together. If we’re lucky, it won’t have to come to that, but knowing this town’s luck…”

“He has a point,” Garion murmured to Adaryc. The man was never one to turn down a good social gathering.

“Will you and your companions partake in the festivities, Watcher?” asked Jarhod, seemingly out of nowhere. “I’d like to examine Abydon’s Hammer further, simply for personal interests.”

“Indeed?” said Kana. “Are you a familiar with ancient smithing practices?”

“I dabbled myself in runic engravings on weaponry. You see, before Readceras was an Aedyran colony…”

And the next thing they knew, Kana and Jarhod were wrapped in discussion and heading upstairs.

Aloth looked rather worried, though. “I’ll follow them and make sure that the conversation stays civil,” muttered Aloth to Snowflake. “Readcerans aren’t known to be welcoming of, um, Kana’s more unorthodox ideas.”

Snowflake nodded, and Aloth lost no time making his way to the main hall.

“And I’m going up because I need a drink,” announced Hiravias, swinging a leg off his seat. “Care to join me, Sagani?”

“Are you going to challenge me to another drinking game?” said Sagani, following him up the cellar stairs. “Because you lost miserably the last time.”

“Hey, that was only because I had an empty stomach!”

Their ensuing argument trailed off as they left for the festivities.

“I think,” said Maneha, casually stretching out her arms, “I’ll hit the hot springs first. My muscles have been working overtime, let me tell you. Could you hold on to this for me?” Maneha tossed the Hammer to Garion who almost dropped it in surprise. “Thanks, remind me that I owe you a drink later.” She walked away without waiting for a reply.

Garion gaped at where Maneha had been, and then turned to his commander.

“Leave it here,” said Adaryc.

“Is that an order?”

“No, but you’ll hardly enjoy yourself if you’re holding on to it all night.”

Garion grinned. “I’ll call the others, then. After the attack on our fort, this’ll be a good way to recover some morale.”

By the time Garion left, only Adaryc and Snowflake remained in the cellar. She was still poring over the map, her face only inches away from the surface of the table. Her pig was sleeping at her feet, never too far away from its master. Adaryc didn’t mind. After everything’s that happened, he was grateful for the chance to collect his thoughts. This was a rare moment of calm in these tumultuous days. 

The people of Readceras lived in constant fear that the Dyrwood would mount a counter-invasion as retribution for the Saint’s War. The closest they came to doing so was with their barbaric Purges, cleansing Eothasians from their lands. The Iron Flail was one of the few things that remained to protect their homeland from such atrocities by monitoring the border cities of the Dyrwood. There were times when they had to ransack a settlement that became too threatening a presence, but it was a necessary practice. One that they learned from Dyrwoodans themselves, no less. Everyone knew how they burned Cold Morn, how they threw their own to the fire, not even for worshiping a god they didn’t like, but simply because they had to quench the bloodlust leftover from the war. Adaryc knew then that these people must be kept at bay.

But as he listened to the susurrus of merriment upstairs, Adaryc wondered if there will come a time that Stalwart, too, must be crushed beneath Readceras’ Iron Flail. The village will undoubtedly become more powerful with Durgan’s Battery. Already, settlers were adding to their tiny ranks and they were producing weapons more lethal than what was once thought possible. They may share a common cause now, but for how long? How wise was it to have the Iron Flail sup with the people of Stalwart? He appreciated that his men were making merry instead of digging graves, but peace...It seemed alien to him, unnatural even now. 

Adaryc examined the warhammer in his hand, lightweight despite its size. It was the act of gods that tore their nations asunder, and now another god threatened them both. At first, he considered it blasphemous how Snowflake and her party treated Abydon’s Hammer with such irreverence, but now it seemed fitting. It was an act of defiance: foil a god’s plan with another god’s tool. But Adaryc knew there was no defying the gods, not truly; we are instruments of one or the other. It is not a matter of whether or not we carry out the gods’ will, but of which god wills us.

“Eothas and Magran walked together once, yes?” Snowflake asked suddenly, shattering the silence and his line of thought.

“I see you’re familiar with ‘The Light of Dawn’,” noted Adaryc, gently putting down the hammer. “Indeed, Eothas’s light and Magran’s fire are not incompatible. They both believe in transformation and trial, in kith’s inherent desire to change for the better. It was...written during better times.”

“What changed?”

“That’s difficult to say.” Adaryc voice was steady yet tired. “The caprices of gods forever remain tests of our faith. Most people would point to the Saint’s War, but Eothas…King Waidwen—his cause was just, his actions necessary. That I’m certain of.”

Adaryc expected her to disagree, as so many not from Readceras tend to do. History skewed to the side of the victors, and it did not look upon his homeland well for King Waidwen’s reign. At worst, he was a warmongering charlatan who took advantage of a suffering nation; at worse, he was a misguided sop who was taken advantage of by a god. So, Adaryc was surprised when Snowflake only pursed her lips in thought.

She leisurely made her way across the table and lifted up Abydon’s Hammer, running her fingers over its flawless surface. “Do you hear that?” she asked softly.

One by one, she lifted interwoven essence from the hammer, her fingers gliding through unraveling threads. Ciphers were notorious for how they imposed their will upon others, how they violated the minds and souls of living and dead alike. But this…there was no violence in it, no more than it was violent to pluck at the strings of an instrument. Adaryc did not speak; he only watched the fluid motion of her hands curiously, entranced by the way she manipulated its essence.

_Entranced…_

Adaryc defensively rose from his chair, his shoulders tense. “It was accidental when we peered into each other’s essence, Watcher. Whatever you may think, I will not take kindly to another attempt.”

She blinked in confusion. There was a look of hurt about her, and he felt a pang of regret. He wanted to reach out, to apologize to her. But before he had a chance, she was laughing.

“It’s only a song the bard is playing,” she said with chuckle. She scrunched her eyes shut and whispered to him. “Listen.”

Out of the din of conversation, clatter of mugs and plates, and footsteps thumping on the floor, a song rose above that cacophony, soothing yet morose.

_****The sea beheld her love** ** _

_****Shining bright from on high** ** _

“Ondra and Abydon were entangled just as Eothas and Magran were,” said Snowflake. “Her oceans created and shaped Eora as much as his machines and towers did. They worked together in guiding the ebb and tide of civilizations.”

_****She bade him come down** ** _

_****From his palace in the sky** ** _

Adaryc saw the images in his mind, and she seemed to notice. She looked to him to continue, her fingers tentative upon the warhammer. He walked cautiously toward her, trying to understand the song and the hammer both.

“But,” he began, “it didn’t last. What they built together came to an end, as most things do. Abydon refused to destroy what they created, and so the goddess did what was necessary.”

_****Her love could not be swayed** ** _

A shadow cast on Snowflake’s face. “Yes…she destroyed a god, but instead of calling down the wrath of the Godhammer, Ondra called down her moon. It was, as you put it, necessary.”

_****So she took a piece into her heart** ** _

A wave of regret threatened to drown Adaryc as that fated day played out in his mind. Abydon in his living form shielded his people from the fragment of Ionni Brathr, winded and panting but with a smile of relief on his face. Two words reverberated both in this cold cellar and in the edges of Adaryc’s soul: ****“Made it.”****

_****And all who saw her grief that day** ** _

_****Sleep in her bosom still** ** _

“Ionni Brathr,” murmured Adaryc, coming to a realization. “The heart of Ondra where a piece of him still rests. The Eyeless contain Abydon’s essence: his skill, his power, his memories… ”

“Ondra’s very concerned about the last one in particular. She’s willing to have us destroy a part of her so that the world may finally forget.” Snowflake idly swung the Hammer, resting it on her shoulder. “It’s all very poetic, don’t you think?”

Adaryc sighed in frustration. “I’d never thought I myself would have a part in destroying a god.”

“Are you still willing to do it?”

“Of course.” Adaryc did not so much as flinch. “The Eyeless are a menace, whether they are vessels of Abydon or otherwise.”

“I know a man who was part of the Dozen that constructed the Godhammer.” Snowflake pressed against the hammer’s cheek, guiding the essence back to its source. “He said the same thing about Waidwen.”

Adaryc’s eyes narrowed. “Do you mean to mock my faith, Snowflake?”

She shook her head, all seriousness. “No, not at all. If anything, I envy your faith. It takes a rare sort of resolve to stay faithful after witnessing what you did.”

This woman knew more than she ever should have been privy to, but at this point, Adaryc had little energy left to care. “Did you glean that from my essence back in the fort as well?” he muttered tiredly.

“No.” She laid Abydon’s Hammer on the table and, with one fluid motion, unsheathed the blade at her hip. She gingerly rested Steadfast on her palms. From the looks of it, the sword had seen some use the last time he had held it. “This blade tells your story. The story of your brethren as well. You witnessed the explosion at the citadel.”

“Yes. I was the only one who lived to tell the tale.”

Snowflake gaze was constant and focused, as it oft was, as she looked to him for further details. There was no judgement in her eyes, but it still felt like they were stripping him bare. 

“I was part of the command that marched on Halgot’s Citadel,” explained Adaryc. “The youngest commander in the history of Readceras, if only by happenstance. I wanted King Waidwen to see that, to find the boy he saved from the chopping block now leading his armies into battle. He…never did.” He leaned on the table, a familiar sense of exhaustion seeping into his bones. He stared before him, looking at nothing and seeing everything. “All that remained afterwards were ashes and broken blades. I trudged through the battlefield, searching for anyone, anything that might have have survived, and all I found was that longsword. It was crude and chipped, and yet it stood where better steel had fallen. And so I called it Steadfast and took it as a sign.”

Adaryc expected pity, maybe even disbelief, but she only leaned against the table with him and let out a hum of recognition. “That’s when you became a Watcher, too.” It was more of a statement than a question, but he answered her nonetheless.

“It takes more than an explosion to kill a god. The Godhammer wasn’t simply a bomb—it was an instrument of indiscriminate destruction. It shook Eora’s Wheel, tearing apart the very fabric of the veil. And there is no closing your eyes once you have peered beyond that.” There were still some days when he thought that it would have been better if that explosion took him as well.

Adaryc took a long steadying breath. “It took me years to come to terms with I was, to take command of the Iron Flail despite of it. You seem to be handling it well, though—better than I ever did. It was a bîaŵac that gave you the Watcher’s curse, was it not?”

Snowflake nodded. “I don’t know how I survived either, but you…” She appraised Steadfast with a fascinated gleam in her eye. “At least you got a cool sword out it.”

“If I recall, you said you weren’t too appreciative of swords,” said Adaryc.

She blushed. As faint as it was, it was plain to see against her starkly pale cheeks. “I didn’t realize how important Steadfast was. You shouldn’t have given it away. Not to me.”

“It’s nothing, especially not to someone who forged the weapon of a god.”

“I’d take your blade over a god’s leftovers any day.” Once again, her unabashed sincerity was disarming.

Adaryc coughed into his fist. “Either way, what matters is that it found some use.”

“I wish I could give you something in return, but I don’t really have any meaningful weapons that perfectly encapsulate my life’s story laying about.”

“There’s no need for weapons when we could simply exchange words.”

“My words aren’t particularly meaningful either.” She shrugged. “But fair enough. What would you like to know?”

Truthfully, a lot: how she Awakened, why she came to the Dyrwood, what her life had been like before all this, what’s the deal with that pig, and so many other things besides. It was too much for one day, so instead Adaryc merely contented himself by asking, “Would you like to have a drink?”

He anticipated her rejection, maybe even for her to chide him for his boldness. But Snowflake only looked confused, like he said something in a language she only had a rudimentary comprehension of. Eventually, her features softened into an apologetic smile. Her face was beaten and weathered, but there was something about the piercing sincerity of those eyes and the gentle curve of her cheeks. Smiles suited her.

“No, not right now,” she replied, tugging at her glove. “But I will once we’ve defeated the Eyeless.”

It was a better answer than Adaryc expected—a promise of victory and better days to come. “I’ll look forward to it,” he said.

“We should retire for the night.” Snowflake tucked a lock of snow-white hair behind her ear before scooping up her snoozing pig into her arms. Snowflake climbed up the stairs, Abydon’s Hammer on one side and Steadfast on the other and her strange pig nuzzled in front. She paused just in front of the threshold, her hand hovering over the doorknob. “Good night, Commander.”

Music from the tavern sneaked in as she exited the cellar, the words lingering and gently reverberating against the stone walls. There may never be peace for someone like him, but for the first time in a long while, Adaryc remembered what it felt like to hope, to look forward to something. He let himself to sink into his seat, allowing the bard’s song to wash over him like ocean waves lapping upon the shore.

_****The sea beheld her love** ** _

_****Shining bright from on high** ** ****…** **_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adaryc's backstory is revealed in Steadfast's item description. However, I heavily modified it to give an explanation as to why Adaryc became a Watcher. He was not part of the vanguard in canon, he assumed command only after Waidwen's defeat, and Steadfast was forged from broken blades on the battlefield. As much as I loved the image of him solemnly gathering the broken blades of his comrades to forge into the ultimate weapon, I had to alter it in favor of...this. Now that I think about it, I might be beginning to regret this.
> 
> Sneak peaks of upcoming chapters are available at myrtells.tumblr.com


	5. Aloth Moonlights as A Pyrotechnician in His Spare Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyday, we stray farther away from canon's light.

The Cult of the Fallen Moon was better equipped and trained than any clergymen out in the frozen mountains had any right to be. They did not yield the cliffside easily. As Adaryc buried his blade into one of the monks’ heart, he watched a torrent of emotion play out on the man’s face: rage, confusion, and finally…gratitude.

“These people…” said Garion as the last of the Ondrites were slain, “they weren’t in their right minds.”

“As expected of fanatics,” stated Adaryc coldly. “Position your men and have the catapults at the ready. We must be prepared when Snowflake’s party gives the signal.”

The Iron Flail had full view of the battle waging on the lake. A larger party would have certainly been a detriment on the precarious ice. The dwarven hunter’s fox, however, easily jumped from one ice floe to another, tracing a path for all to follow. Adaryc watched a black streak glide through the ice and recognized Snowflake immediately. He had previously believed the reputed grace of the pale elves to be overly exaggerated, but now he saw there was some basis to those rumors. Her movement on the ice was markedly different from that on solid ground; she anticipated every slide, not fighting it but letting it move her forward. He was quite impressed until…

“Oof,” said Snowflake as she bumped right into the heel of one of the Eyeless.

A flurry of yellow lights flew from the Aedyran elf’s scepter. It was useless against a foe with no eyes, but it served other purposes…

“FIRE!” bellowed Adaryc.

A loaded ballista released with a resounding twang, its iron spear piercing the Eyeless in the chest. The monster staggered backwards, falling into the murky depths of Cayron’s Scar.

Another round of lights flew into the air—this time, a fiery red. As if from the gods themselves, cannonballs rained from the sky accompanied by booming thunder. Adaryc knew that somewhere, an orlan was having the time of her life.

When the sound of war horns faded and the floating ice no longer violently rocked back and forth, that’s when Adaryc was certain that they had made it inside Ionni Brathr. His men gathered around him, watching that rock at the center of Cayron’s Scar with bated breath. He saw the Flames-That-Whisper clan standing at the edge of the lake, regrouping and tending to their wounded. He noticed that Matron Beregan did not look to the fragment of Ionni Brathr, but instead gazed at the distant forests surrounding them. It wasn’t long before Adaryc understood why.

The ground trembled at the sound of massive footsteps and falling trees. A line of Eyeless emerged from the forest, trudging towards the center of a lake. Adaryc braced himself for a fight, but the Eyeless ignored both the Iron Flail and the ogres; all their attention was focused on Ionni Brathr. By the time Adaryc looked back at the rock, a purple glow was emanating from it, pulsating like a beating heart. One by one, the Eyeless filed into Ionni Brathr, and Cayron’s Scar was silent once more.

“By the dawn,” gasped Jarhod beside him. “What in Eora is going on?”

‘Should we sink the rock now?” asked Alrac anxiously.

“No,” said Adaryc, perhaps more forceful than necessary. “We wait.”

Adaryc did not know how much time had passed—a minute might as well have been an hour—until he saw something emerge from Ionni Brathr. Even from a distance, he could make out the shapes of Snowflake’s party frantically creating as much distance between them and the moon fragment. Behind them, Ionni Brathr shook in a desperate fury, cracks and fissures appearing on its surface like dark purple veins. The ice floes already started to quake from it. They had to send the rock into the depths of the lake while it was still intact, while it was still able to hold all the Eyeless inside it.

“Man the catapults,” ordered Adaryc. He heard the steady creaking of wood as his men took aim.

“They’re missing one,” said Garion.

Adaryc scanned the lake. Kana, the aumaua, was carrying a squirming blue creature in his arms—the pig was there, but where was its owner?

Aloth, the wizard, raised his scepter again. This time black smoky sparks erupted from the tip, stark against the white skies of the White March.

“That’s the final signal!” said Alrac.

Snowflake was still nowhere to be seen. They couldn’t have left her inside; she would be trapped in the rock along with the Eyeless. No, she must be somewhere else—somewhere unseen. Only when he felt his fingers digging at his palms did Adaryc realize he was clenching his fists.

“Your orders, Commander!”

Now. He had to do it now. Adaryc took one last glance at Ionni Brathr and shouted with all his conviction, “FIRE!”

The catapults released burning volley after volley, aided by both the gun fire of the ogre’s cannoneers and the artillery of Durgan’s Battery. The Eyeless’ den was engulfed in a maelstrom of fire and water, smoke and snow, until Ionni Brathr’s final anchor of ice split open. His men cheered as the pulsing rock sank into the dark waters of Cayron’s Scar taking the Eyeless along with it. But even as thick layers of ice broke and disappeared one by the one, Adaryc kept waiting.

“We should congratulate the heroes of the hour,” suggested Alrac, beaming at their victory.

“Yes, of course,” said Adaryc. Despite everything going exactly as planned, something seemed off. Perhaps he’d get a clearer picture from those who’d been inside Ionni Brathr.

As Adaryc approached the lakeside, he knew something was wrong. Matron Beregan’s ogres formed a wall between Snowflake’s party and the lake. Kana and Hiravias were holding back an agitated Maneha with little success.

“We should go look for her now!” urged Maneha, clearly panicking.

“We can’t go back into the lake now,” said Sagani. She tried to calm her companion, but she looked just as unsettled. “The ice is too unstable. The best we can do right now is wait.”

“But the longer we wait, the deeper that thing sinks!” shouted Maneha. “I should’ve been the one—”

“You mean to tell us you left your leader in there?” interrupted Jarhod in shock.

“Someone had to stay,” said Aloth, his tone somber. “Someone had to be inside hitting at the crystal. Snowflake, she…she wanted to be the one to do it.”

Hiravias chuckled humorlessly. “Ondra’s promised mercy.”

Adaryc should not have been as shocked as he was—no battle came without casualties. But after everything Snowflake had been through—the bîaŵac, her Awakening, and opening Durgan’s Battery—it seemed like a cruel joke to have her die by crushing under rock in a backwater lake. He had seen lives more promising than hers come to an equally unceremonious end, their corpses left to rot in some forgotten corner of Eora. And yet something inside him, in between the slivers of his essence which remembered her promise the night before, was certain that she was alive.

While her companions could barely contain their anxiety, Snowflake’s pig was surprisingly calm. It managed to wiggle its way out of Kana’s arm and trotted right next to Adaryc. It looked up at him with its translucent eyes and sniffed at the mountain air. Without so much as a warning, it bolted towards the lake, unnoticed by the arguing crowd.

“Stay here,” ordered Adaryc to his men beside him. “Deescalate the situation if you can.”

With that, he quickly ran off to follow the pig. The last thing that would calm these people was if the animal drowned in the lake as well. It was difficult enough to make it out in the snow with its ice-blue markings, harder still that it appeared not to leave any tracks behind. Eventually, Adaryc tracked it to the other side of the lake where islands of ice floated about, relatively intact compared to the wreckage of the farther side.

As Adaryc rounded past a thicket of shrubbery, he knew he had taken this path before. The scene played out in his mind like an old memory. Just ten more paces, and he would turn the corner to face the edge of the lake. He’d find the pig, but he’d also find her—floating face-down in the lake surrounded by ribbons of black blood trailing in the water.

Before he had time to react, the image vanished into the ether, and when he turned that familiar corner, he instead saw Snowflake sitting by the edge of the lake, if not well then at least very much alive. Adaryc was used to seeing apparitions but never of people who were still breathing. Was she even breathing? She was so still that he could not tell.

The pig trotted up to her and nuzzled its snout of her hand.

“So, this is attempt number three, right?” Her voice cracked as she spoke.

Snowflake lifted off her hood, letting her soaked hair cover her body like ghostly tendrils. It was a wonder how she wasn’t shivering in this cold. With her wet leather hanging limply on her body, Adaryc saw that she was frailer than he thought. It was as if she herself was a melting pillar of ice about to snap under its own weight.

She took off her gloves as well, before she picked up the pig and rested it upon her lap. “I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Adaryc noticed the glint of silver prosthetic fingers as she stroked the animal. The pig snorted happily in response.

“Your friends are worried about you,” said Adaryc. She did not seem at all surprised by his presence.

“I can’t go back yet,” said Snowflake, never looking away from the lake. “The Eyeless are waiting for their answer.”

True enough, he could feel a strong pool of essence at the bottom of the lake, restless and overwhelming. “The Eyeless still live?” he growled.

“Not for long. It should be so easy to destroy their essence. To give the Eyeless to the White Void.” She flexed her fingers, and Adaryc could see innumerable strings of essence attached to her silver fingertips. They were cast into the lake, rippling along with its waters.

“What’s stopping you?” Adaryc scowled. “Be done with them and end this nightmare!”

She pulled at the essence, but she flinched before she could tear it apart. Her face was an icy mask, however, betrayed only by the violent shaking of her hands. “You’d think I’d remember how to do this,” she muttered with a sigh.

“Then hand it to me! I’ll finish it.”

“They…they’re very heavy.”

“I know the weight of souls well, Snowflake,” assured Adaryc. “Or did you forget that we share that burden?” He looked at her trembling hands and sighed tiredly. “There is no room for hesitation here.”

“No, I...I can do this. Just…just give me a second. Please.” She scrunched her eyes closed and slowly balled her hands into fists. Adaryc saw the strings of essence go taut, violently vibrate, and then dissipate into nothingness. Snowflake groaned, letting herself fall on the snow with a slump. She let out a long breath, like a balloon letting out air.

Adaryc scanned the lake. The placid surface was as motionless as black glass, as if a war was just not waged on it moments ago. Finally, it was over. They could go home.

Snowflake grabbed something from her pack, a flask of dark brown liquid, and tossed it to Adaryc. “Have you ever had Blacsonn, Commander?” she asked, taking an identical flask out for herself.

“That Dyrwoodan swill? No, I can’t say I have.” Adaryc uncorked the flask and sniffed at its contents. The acrid odor almost made him recoil.

“It’s the strongest they have here,” said Snowflake. “To a promise kept.” She raised her flask to Cayron’s Scar and took a long swig. From the look on her face, she might as well have been gulping down water.

Well, she did promise they would have a drink after defeating the Eyeless. Adaryc took a sip himself, feeling his body heat up as it passed through his gullet. It was as if his senses had been numbed by frost, and only now that the Blacsonn was in his body did he truly perceive his surroundings. He could see the glint of fish swimming below the water, the sound of wind rustling in the bushes, and the heat from Snowflake’s body just beside him. He also now saw the injuries on her face: a split lip, a swollen left eye, and a bleeding gash on her forehead. Adaryc cursed under his breath; it was a ghastly sight. “We need to get you back to camp. Your wounds will fester—”

“The cold preserves as much as it destroys,” recited Snowflake in a practiced monotone. “I’ll live; it’s not that bad.” She ran her hand over her tender lip, grimacing slightly at the pain. “Alright, it’s a bit bad.”

She rummaged through her water-logged pack and pulled out a bottle of ointment with shaky hands. It inevitably slipped between her fingers, almost rolling into the lake had Adaryc not deftly scooped it up.

“Thank you,” she said, reaching out to take the bottle back.

He pushed away her hand in frustration. She was a mess. “Let me do it,” he said, kneeling beside her.

She allowed him that much at least and let him cup her face in his hand. Adaryc gently lifted her chin and patted a glob of ointment on her lip. Her breath was hot against his fingers, and he was intimately aware of how close he was to her. For some reason, as ghoulish as she seemed from far away, she looked much more alive up close. He could see the faint flush on her cheeks, the minuscule crystals of frost forming on her lashes, and his own reflection bright in her eyes. Even the way she wrinkled her nose appeared so…human. She was not standing atop a conquered enemy like some larger-than-life creature of legend; no, she was here in his hands, bleeding like any other kith would. How could this person have felled a goddess’ army?

“It’s a wonder how you survived,” whispered Adaryc absentmindedly.

“It is, isn’t it?” Snowflake sounded just as perplexed as he was.

“I suppose you’ll be going back to your search for Thaos after this?”

Snowflake tilted her head, causing Adaryc’s hand to press on a bruise, although he would not have known it pained her if it were not for her flat, “Ow.”

“Stay still.” His words sounded too much like orders. But the fight was over, and all because of this woman. He shouldn’t be so rough. “I’m sorry.”

“Your hands feel very nice, actually,” she said, once again unaware of the implications of her words. It was good that Adaryc’s cheeks were already tinged red from the Blacsonn. 

“What do you know of Thaos?” she asked.

“Your memories showed that he was a very prominent figure in your past life—a powerful and malevolent one from what I recall. You have quite a battle ahead of you, my friend.”

“I know.” Snowflake looked very exhausted at that moment.

Adaryc was well-acquainted with that expression—there was always another threat to fight off, another battle to endure. “Know that the Iron Flail stands ready to aid your cause, should you need it,” he said.

Adaryc did not notice his thumb lingering on her cheek until he felt the corner of her mouth tug into a halfhearted smile. He tore himself away from her, his posture tense and rigid.

“Funny that you should say that…” She picked up her gloves and methodically put them on, business-like in her swiftness. “What would you say to showing up a well-established Dyrwoodan thayn?”


End file.
